


The Faithful

by duckiesinaline



Series: The Emperor's Clothes [1]
Category: Tron (Movies), Tron - All Media Types, Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Suit Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-12
Updated: 2012-02-12
Packaged: 2017-10-31 00:40:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/338007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duckiesinaline/pseuds/duckiesinaline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You let them <em>mark</em> you. You should wear no marks but <em>mine</em>."</p>
<p>Or, unrepentant suit smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Faithful

**Author's Note:**

> First, Winzler's [aw;oefija;weoij suit porn](http://307020.com/post/17039562828/done-what-a-well-dressed-rinzler-is-wearing-this) happened.
> 
> Then there came a lot of other things behind the scenes, some information redacted. *handwaves*
> 
> Then came this.

There were some memories worth backing up in the user world despite its never-ending lists of imperfections.

Clu fingered the ornament and its four, square-cut rubies, nestled just beneath the pin-striped knot. There was no electric spark at the contact, just the rub of cool, smooth facets against the pad of his naked thumb, but Rinzler's chin dropped as if the effect had been the same and the purl of his trademark rumble settled warm and heavy in Clu's abdomen.

"You let them mark you," the administrator mused, nonchalant, but he could read the tension at the corners of the shadowed eyes, hear wariness in the deepening timber of the man's growl. One of Rinzler's gloved hands rose - fingers long and slim in silhouette - and touched the still-welling blood sliding in a clean line down one cheek as Clu's hand curled tight around the cool silk of the tie. "That was careless of you," he husked, voice low in a nearly matching growl, and this time Rinzler tensed all over as the administrator tugged him near, other hand capturing the sullied fingers to examine.

Eyes the same storm-blue as the skies overhead watched, pupils spreading like ink as Clu breathed deep. The administrator took in the metallic tang of blood and the strange, musky warmth of leather before he pulled the hand close; touched tongue to fingertip and wrapped his lips slowly around the scents, tasting salt and bitterness before he raised his gaze to find warmth flushing the pale cheeks. He bared his teeth around the finger and smirked all the more when a visible shudder gripped the man's frame; the pressure of cutting edges all too palpable through the thin material. "I don't like it when my men are careless with my property," he purred after a last curl of his tongue around the alien tastes, pleased when Rinzler's head bowed dutifully, shoulders hunching forward in acknowledgment.

"Take off your jacket," he drawled, grip flattening across the tie as scarlet studs were dutifully slipped from their catches. He dragged his palm across sleek shirt and tailored waistcoat as they were bared, settling his touch low upon the flat, lean belly, where warmth bled through even the layers still covering it. He slid around the man as the jacket was folded precisely lengthwise and left draped over the nearest seat, let his own heat be felt against the strong curve of the back. He breathed against a tantalizing glimpse of skin just above the black collar, and smiled at the flutter of muscles beneath his hand.

"Over the desk."

Gloved hands pressed, fingers spread, upon the glossy black surface. Feet shifted obediently apart as Clu slid a knee between Rinzler's legs, and the administrator finally, carefully molded his body against the lean-muscled form; savoring every inch of new sensation that bled through the body's fibrous network of sensors. "Remain still," he breathed against a manicured sweep of dark hair as his other hand slipped around, worked the belt loose and the trousers open; finally let his hips fit close against Rinzler's with a deep, gratified hum while his fingers skimmed down over bared skin and wiry hair to finally cup an answering, turgid heat that surged eagerly into his palm.

"Clu - " the broken voice stuttered, instantly silenced when he bit down lightly upon an earlobe in warning.

"Keep your hands upon the desk," he growled, more to revel in his claim than to remind, giving a light squeeze as he continued nudging fabric aside, until the elegant folds were draped low beneath the hard swell of the buttocks and he could almost rub himself directly at the cleft between them. "Let me hear you," he breathed into Rinzler's ear, felt the clothed back bow just a little more beneath him, muscles bunching within the shoulders as he reached between them and let a knuckle brush over the puckered opening while he drew his own zipper down.

They had not developed a routine yet though the awkwardness was finally removed; processes pared down to the bare, elegant necessities though he was as yet undecided on his preferred variations. He had learned the valuable lesson of preparation and discovered a previously unsuspected delight in the sight of Rinzler's back curving, the sound of his choked snarl, the feel of battle-hardened muscles rippling and twitching as his oiled fingers pressed deep into soft, clenching heat.

His free hand crept up beneath the trailing tails of the shirt, thumb just brushing the odd hollow of the navel, the heel of his palm pressing low and tight upon Rinzler's belly and felt his lips stretch in an equally tight curl of satisfaction when the man hunched with a whine, the tie's end a cool whisper against the back of his wrist. A little higher, snug beneath the waistcoat and the gentle tap of its chain, and he could feel muscles contracting sharply with each gasp of breath required by the rough machinery of user bodies, sweat collecting in slippery pools within their hollows. He could feel his own pulse - an odd, fluttering thing, usually imperceptible but now a thudding, thundering pressure that made him feel too full - pooling between his legs, in his chest, in his head, and finally he had to pull his fingers away, sharply enough that Rinzler hissed irritably in warning at the sting.

_"Let me hear you,"_ he ordered, entreated, hoarse as his hips snapped forward and Rinzler obeyed with an unreserved keen, low in his throat, the sound interrupting his previously unbroken rumble. Clu gathered himself, free hand curling over the sharp blade of a hip, and surged deeper with a growl into the stiff lines of the collar, senses filled with the scent of sweat and heat and wool, and something undefinable that made his groin tighten and his legs go numb.

There were no circuits, but he had learned that there were patterns nevertheless. Discovered that some were hardwired - the male body's odd extensions, the strange cluster of sensors buried deep within - while others had conditionals.

His hips rocked forward even though he was already snugged tight against Rinzler's body, just to feel the soft crush of cloth caught between them, rasping against his belly.

Rinzler's rough pants for air - each sound tugging at something deep inside Clu's own chest - and the occasional hitching whine that made the administrator curl his fingers and dig their edges in, the body twitching and writhing beneath him.

The sight of black gloves spread upon an equally black substrate, the shadow of a face reflected between them, mouth open and brow furrowed, eyes clenched shut ...

... and a single drop of blood, darker than the rubies that had rested at Rinzler's throat, trembling upon an angular sweep of jaw before scattering upon the polished surface.

_Thud._

A wave of ticking growls abruptly swelled beneath his thumb where it pressed tight around the neck he had unthinkingly pinned upon the desk.

Clu blinked as he had time to take in a single snapshot of Rinzler's snarling face, pressed sideways against the glass, bright flickers of light flashing beneath the cheek as the touch-surface struggled to interpret the storm of signals.

A second blink, and suddenly a black-sleeved elbow was angling back, body twisting fluidly beneath him, and only hardcoded responses kept him from being unseated completely while higher-level processes were still sorting through the data.

A third blink, and he was blanketing the body beneath him with his full weight, one of the arms twisted and pinned between them, both of them gasping as he dug fingers into captured wrist and bruised hip. There was a last, desperate buck, and he rewarded it with a savage thrust that wrenched a cry through clenched teeth, before Rinzler finally lay still, if not completely quiet; all taut, futile power, grudgingly leashed.

Clu unbent his fingers, joints creaking, and slowly reached up toward the wound. The single, visible eye rolled back to watch with narrowed distrust as he pressed his thumb against the cheek, just beneath the cut, and watched skin pale from the pressure and fluid gather at the edge. Clu could feel Rinzler's shell - body - clench tight around him as he moved his hand, smearing scarlet in a messy streak across the broken skin. Clu shuddered, swallowed the sound that threatened to claw through his throat, and whispered hoarsely, "You let them _mark_ you. You should wear no marks but _mine_."

Something flickered in the eye that Clu could see, something that made him instinctively spread fingers upon the port-less back, trying to access code he could not reach in this realm, and he abruptly growled in frustration and drew his hips back only to drive back inside with a fury that had Rinzler trying to curl away with a howl.

Clu pressed close, pinning the struggling body, mouth open and breaths harsh against the sweat-soaked hair at Rinzler's nape. He reached beneath, wrapped fingers around the man's hot length, and tightened his grip inexorably until the struggles stopped with a pained yelp and Rinzler abruptly lay docile and spread, tremors shivering through muscles on the verge of cramping with adrenaline and fatigue.

"Did you recycle the lesson already?" Clu growled, grip unrelenting, struggling against the powerful, base urge to _move_  within his living sheath. "If you fight me, I will make you suffer. But if you yield ... " His grip shifted, spread the pressure ... closed completely around the warm shaft and gave it a firm, deliberate stroke. "I am a fair master and reward the faithful."

There was a soft squeak of leather as Rinzler's free hand clawed at the desk's polished surface. Breath fogged upon the glass beneath his open mouth as he shuddered, wavering ... before his hips gave a small, stuttering, inevitable push into Clu's fist. The administrator nosed the tender skin just behind the man's jaw, scraping his teeth across the taut tendons in the side of the neck, before slowly pumping his hand up and back ...

It took only a few minutes to reduce Rinzler to helpless gasps and growls. Clu rocked with his movements, snugged close at all times, allowing him only the sensation of the administrator, full and heavy inside, filling rather than moving.

A few minutes more and then Rinzler was arching, frozen, expression creased with a pleasure almost indistinguishable from pain, voice pared to a high, thin whine as his entire body _tightened_ ...

Clu bit down upon the edge of the man's neck and shoulder, muffling his own whine of need as Rinzler spasmed, and felt wet heat spill across his fingers as a last groan was wrung from the body beneath him before it went limp, even the rumbling purr momentarily silenced. Only then did the administrator shift, draw himself slowly, gingerly back, let the cool air chase his length until only the tip remained embraced in warmth ... and then pushed back in with a single, smooth thrust.

Rinzler twitched but did not rouse until Clu had settled into a steady, insistent rhythm. When the man began to stir with a vague sound of protest, belly tensing in discomfort, Clu pressed soiled fingertips to his lips, letting Rinzler taste himself as the administrator flattened them against his tongue. Spent and stifled, eyes still heavy-lidded, the man flinched at the relentless scrape over too-sensitive nerves ... 

"Rinzler - !" Clu hissed - gasped, really - a sound filled with desperation and exhaustion and a thread of savage posessiveness before he ground deep into the man and spilled himself inside.

His fingers fell away and a tongue flicked gingerly at the traces of blood and seed that remained behind.

His hands, trembling, smoothed over bruised hips and beneath crumpled fabric, to rest upon vulnerable flesh below the protective cage of ribs.

And a soft, ticking purr began to fill the room; building until it drowned out the sounds of user pulse and user breath, leaving only the steady, soothing rumble of a thousand cycles of memory.


End file.
